Georgia, 31, had always enjoyed creating personalised gifts to bring happiness to her loved ones. But it wasn't until she was faced with the hardest time of her life that she really realised the power of healing through gift-giving.

Ever since I was a little girl my dad, Richard, was my hero.

I always remember him dressed impeccably in a suit, briefcase in hand, coming straight home from long 75-hour weeks at the office.

Despite how hard he worked, he always made time for what was most important in life - his family.

He never missed one Friday night at my Little Athletics club, helping out with timekeeping duties, manning the sausage sizzle, and cheering me on from the sidelines.

As I got older, our bond grew even stronger.

When an amazing opportunity arose for me try out to tour New Zealand with my hockey team as a teen, I was nervous and doubting myself.

Dad wouldn't let me miss the once-in-a-lifetime chance.

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He encouraged me to believe in myself, and for weeks he spent every day after work practising with me at the park.

I ended up being selected for the hockey tour - it was one of the best experiences of my life!

His generous, caring and giving nature definitely rubbed off on me.

From a young age, I started hand-making cards for friends and family for no specific occasion - just because I liked giving them things.

I continued this as an adult, surprising friends and family with gifts when they needed cheering up or deserved to be celebrated.

I remember one day visiting my TV production work colleague when she was home sick with the flu. I gave her a care package with homemade soup, herbal tea, magazines and vitamins - topped off with an uplifting card.

Seeing her smile made me so happy! So I continued this tradition over the years, treating friends and family with care packages for various reasons - including travel packages if they went overseas, or gifts to help with heartbreak (usually with wine included!).

My job was so busy, but family always came first.

So one afternoon in October 2012 when Dad texted me, my brother and my sister to come over I made sure to get there straight after work.

Georgia with her dad and siblingsSource:BodyAndSoul

I was looking forward to what I thought would be a happy family catch-up.

Heartbreakingly, I was about to hear the worst words of my life.

My dad, my hero - the rock of our family - sat us all down and told us he had cancer.

"It's terminal," he said, choking back tears.

He was 58-years-old - it was the first time I'd ever seen him cry.

The cancer had spread all through his bones.

My stomach knotted. My heart sunk. My world crumbled.

The next 11 months were the most traumatic of my life.

Terrified I could miss any precious time with Dad, I quit my job and did whatever I could to help care for him.

Dad endured numerous surgeries, chemotherapy and medication cocktails, but sadly nothing worked. The cancer was taking over his whole body, robbing him of his most basic human functions. Within months he was in a wheelchair.

I visited Dad and my mum every day, whether it was at their home or in hospital.

During this difficult time for our family, many friends and family members would either visit minimally, or stopped visiting at all.

Those who did visit, didn't know what to say or do - the situation was just so confronting.

I remember one person popping over with a bottle of Dad's favourite red wine - which he could no longer drink due to his constantly ulcerated tongue.

Others visited with bunches of flowers, which didn’t really seem right for the situation.

So I started doing little things I thought could help, like bringing puzzle books, herbal teas and organic moisturisers - as chemotherapy dried out Dad’s skin.

I also made care packages for Mum, which included scented candles, chocolates and inspirational books. As Dad's carer she needed to be looked after, too.

By September 2013, Dad was in a very frail state.

I knew he didn't have long left. I remember sitting by his bedside in the palliative care hospital, holding his stick thin arm, telling him what an amazing father he was, and how much I loved him.

I reassured him that it was okay for him to let go, he didn’t need to fight anymore.

The day he passed away was the most devastating day of our lives, but I was also comforted knowing he was finally out of pain.

Through my grief, I started thinking more about how much my little care packages cheered up Dad and my other loved ones throughout the years.

Georgia with one of her care packagesSource:BodyAndSoul

Something like that available to buy would've allowed people in our lives to connect with my parents through a thoughtful care package, rather than turn away because they didn't know what to do or say.

Thinking about it more, I was inspired to turn my pain into something positive.

For months I worked on a business plan and sourcing products, on a mission to help others going through grief, illness or trauma to feel connected and loved.

The following year, I launched Caring Canary- an online store for people to brighten someone’s day through a selection of gift boxes and care packages that could be ordered and personalised in a few easy clicks.

I had packages for all occasions - including sympathy and condolences, new mums, celebrations, pampering and indulging, and specialised chemo gifts.

They were always combined with a personalised, handwritten message, and individualised through a range of special products - from herbal teas, scented candles and lavender eye pillows, to travel cups, magazines, handmade marshmallows and head scarves.